


WoI Episode 3: Prophet and Loss

by MrsHamill



Series: Riding the Wheel of If [4]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, Multiverse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-24
Updated: 2000-03-24
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: Another day, another universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really beat the shit out of Obi-Wan, don't I? It's a good thing he suffers so prettily.

Obi-Wan reflected that initiating the transfer from a seated position was probably better than standing. Not that he had much choice in the matter: he had barely escaped the last reality with his skin intact. But at least the transport was away, and they had a good chance of making it to wherever they were going.

Brushing off the layers of dust that coated his clothes and hair, he stood and clipped his ‘saber to his belt. He was still just outside the western wall, a couple hours after dawn, but this Temple was both better and worse than the last one. Not exactly destroyed, nevertheless it was damaged and crumbling; it looked as though it hadn’t been maintained properly in years. Coruscant was also silent, no traffic in the sky. But there _were_ sounds, of animals, and he sensed distant Force signatures of people, so it was difficult to tell exactly what had happened here.

He made his way into the Temple, shucking the black robe he still wore from his last adventure. Deserted, the huge complex seemed oddly lonely, dusty, silent and rather depressing. Once again, there seemed to be no power, but when he checked, he found some weak emergency power still glowing. He thought it might not be impossible to get general power working again, and a hot bath would be a glorious thing. Along with a nap – he yawned, despite himself.

As he trudged, he reflected on the strangeness of his situation. He had been to three different versions of the Jedi Temple – four, if he counted his own, ‘home’ version – and while only one had been pleasant and helpful, he would not have passed up on any of them. Once again he realized that for the first time since his Master died, he felt truly alive and vibrant – he had a purpose in life again, and a goal that would see him through. He _would_ find a home for himself, and that home would be with Qui-Gon Jinn. The thought made him smile, and the absurdity of the smile almost made him laugh.

The elevators were not working, and the stairs looked iffy – a bit crumbly and crowded with debris. But his Master’s old quarters were on the third level, and he felt he could probably make it that far. If the furniture was still there, he could at least catch some sleep before seeking a way to shower. And the familiarity would help against the strangeness of seeing an abandoned and deserted Temple.

While making his way up the stairs, a sudden skittering noise made him jump – until he realized that the Temple was undoubtedly infested with all sorts of animals. Looking around, he realized that there were pieces of things that could only be nesting materials scattered about, as well as pungent droppings. He was more careful where he stepped; over the years, having to deal with Qui-Gon’s many pets made him more aware of sharing his space with little creatures.

The third level was slightly less decrepit than the main level had been. The level was mostly given to apartments, which were mostly sealed – and it took a lot to wear down marble. He finally reached his old apartment and stood for a moment, leaning his forehead on the door. So many memories … if it hadn’t been for the desolation surrounding him, he could almost have believed that once the door opened, he would find Qui-Gon sitting on the sofa, his stockinged feet propped on the battered old cocktail table, cup of tea near at hand, reading one of his archaic paper books … The fantasy became so real to him he could almost feel his Master’s presence …

Shuddering, he finally managed to break free of his reverie to prize the door open. It went easily, which rather surprised him, but what was more surprising was inside. The front room was dust-free and exactly as he remembered it, including some of Qui-Gon’s mementos on the shelving unit. His breath quickening and his gut clenching, he looked desperately around, seeking his Master’s presence in the Force ... something was behind the door to the bedroom.

Quickly he strode towards the closed door, but halfway there, he was struck from behind by a powerful figure that slammed him face-first into the wall. A horribly strong, tall body held him pinned there, while a dreadfully familiar voice hissed into his ear. “Who are you? How did you get here?”

“Master?!” Obi-Wan gasped, and was slammed harder against the wall. A huge hand gripped his head and kept him faced away.

“I’m no one’s master,” the voice growled. “Who are you?”

“It’s … it’s me! Obi-Wan! Please …”

“Never heard of you,” was snarled in his ear. “Did _he_ send you? To tempt me … to kill me! No, he would want to do that himself. But you’ve got a lightsaber …”

“Don’t touch it! It’s dangerous, it’s – it’s booby trapped. I have your ‘saber Master, in my pack …”

“I told you. I’m no one's master. What do you mean, my ‘saber?”

“Please,” Obi-Wan almost sobbed. “Let me show you. I promise … promise, I’m not here to hurt you. Please.”

After a moment, the pressure was reluctantly lessened. He felt his ‘saber unclipped from his belt and heard it thump on the sofa behind him. “Fine. Show me. One false move and I’ll rip your head off.”

Carefully, Obi-Wan reached up to rub at the place where the hand had pressed him to the wall, then slowly turned, taking big gasps of air into his tortured lungs. Behind him, arms crossed and a thunderous expression on his face, stood Qui-Gon Jinn.

But it wasn’t _his_ Qui-Gon. This man had hair half-way down his back, untidily braided, and his beard was scraggy and unevenly trimmed. His tunics were a mess, stained and tattered, and there was a wild light in his eye as he examined Obi-Wan from head to toe. He twitched.

Slowly, Obi-Wan opened his satchel, never taking his eyes from the man before him. His fingers trembled, and he found himself fighting back tears of reaction at being so close to his Master again. This was the situation that he could not have prepared for, no matter how he had told himself he was ready for it, and to see his Master in such a state … He pulled out the familiar ‘saber and held it out to Qui-Gon, who snatched it away from him.

“This is mine … my old ‘saber. Where … how? _He_ broke it. I saw him! How did you get this?!” The big man looked to be about ready to slam Obi-Wan back into the wall, but stopped as the Knight held up his hands.

“I’ll explain. It’s … it’s complicated. Please, let me explain. All right?”

Eyes narrowing, Qui-Gon finally nodded. “All right. Explain. Start with telling me why you’re pretending to be a Jedi.”

Leaning against the wall for support, for he was quite certain that Qui-Gon wouldn’t let him sit, Obi-Wan tremblingly licked his lips and took a breath. “I am a Jedi,” he started. “Not here, not in this reality, but in mine. You … you were my Master …” When Qui-Gon looked to shout another denial, he held up his hand. “Yes, I know, but in _my_ reality, you were. Master Yoda … he thinks it’s something to do with alternate …”

“Yoda?” The name was spoken softly, and some of the madness seemed to recede as he said it. 

“Yes … Master Yoda. Where is he? What happened here? The Sith had destroyed everything in some of the realities, but here …”

Snorting derisively, Qui-Gon said, “Sith. Right. Sith are dead, all of them. And all the Jedi too. All of them. _He_ killed … I …Yoda? You saw him? I know he’s dead. I … watched him die. You saw him?”

“In my reality, he’s very much alive. All the Jedi are. All, but … but you. You died … you died in my arms on Naboo. I never got to tell you …” Obi-Wan was overwhelmed with emotion. Shock and pity for the wreck Qui-Gon had become, confusion over what had happened in his reality, and the underlying joy at finding his beloved Master again. He wanted so badly to reach up and touch that face …

“What’s Naboo? Where? I’m not dead … though I wish I were sometimes. I’m so lonely. He’s seen to that. Killed them all … made me … I’m all alone.” Qui-Gon suddenly focused on the younger man. “He’ll kill you too, you know. Once he finds out you’re here. Unless … did he send you?” He stepped closer, menacing, but Obi-Wan didn’t flinch.

“Mas … Qui-Gon. No one sent me, nothing but the Force. Let me help you. Are you talking about Palpatine? He was the leader of the Sith on the last …”

“Who? No. Palpatine is dead. And Valorum. And Yoda, and Mace … all of them. Dead. I should have killed him when I had the chance … but I loved him. So much …” Suddenly, Qui-Gon buried his head in his hands and began to cry, great wracking sobs wrenching themselves from his body. Slowly, Obi-Wan walked to him and gently took him into his arms, soothing the convulsing body gently, while unnoticed tears slipped down his own face.

“There … it’s all right. I’m here for you now, Mas – I mean, Qui-Gon. I’m here.” The big man’s arms came up and he clung to Obi-Wan, like a drowning man seeking purchase on a floating spar. Obi-Wan maneuvered them to the sofa, where he gently forced Qui-Gon to sit, carding the strands of hair away from the bearded face. 

Finally, the sobbing subsided, and Qui-Gon pulled away, looking at the younger man with honest confusion, rather than madness, in his eyes. “Who are you?” he whispered.

Calming himself, Obi-Wan opened to the Force and found his center, then used it to project to Qui-Gon, seeking to give the big man some comfort and sanity. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m from a different reality, a different ‘if’, where I was a Jedi Knight, the former Padawan Learner to Qui-Gon Jinn,” he said slowly, watching the ideas take root in the Jedi Master’s tortured brain. “I’ve found a way to move among the realities. I’m seeking … I’m seeking, I guess, a happier ending than what I had … when you died in my arms on Naboo, my life was shattered. The Force is helping me re-write my history, and I’m going to follow it to the best of my ability.” Continuing his gentle stroking of the shaggy hair back away from his Master’s face, Obi-Wan continued. “I know it sounds crazy. It sounds crazy to me too. You’ll just have to … to trust me. I don’t want to hurt you, I’m not your enemy. Please … you can trust me.”

Obi-Wan could feel the connections being reformed in the tatters of thought that passed for Qui-Gon’s mind. It was obvious that whatever had happened here, had all but destroyed the big man, had driven him to the edge of madness and perhaps beyond. Now that he concentrated, Obi-Wan could feel the tendrils of darkness that followed Qui-Gon like a cloud of ink, seeking entrance through the wide cracks in the man’s sanity. Carefully, gently, Obi-Wan insinuated himself around Qui-Gon’s aura, driving off the darkness to the best of his ability, protecting the man that could have been his Master from the oiliness that surrounded him.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sighed as he felt the dark recede before this bright light of the Force sitting before him. It was plain he felt more in control, better able to think clearly. He opened his eyes and looked, really looked, at his companion. “Who are you?” he asked again softly. This question had nothing to do with the earlier one, and both men knew it.

“Someone who loves you,” Obi-Wan whispered, touching the bearded face lovingly, his eyes bright with tears. “Let me help you. Please.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said, tasting the name on his tongue as he looked at the younger man wonderingly. Then, with a deep breath, he continued. “I don’t know that you can.”

“Let me try.”

Both men sat still, in the empty, crumbling Temple, surrounded by memories, darkness, light, and hope. Finally, Qui-Gon nodded, his eyes sane but haunted. “All right.”

\---

The first thing that Obi-Wan sensed about Qui-Gon was that his center was destroyed. Dredging up memories from all the times his Master had helped him, Obi-Wan painstakingly worked with Qui-Gon to restore that center and calm serenity so missing in his life. Although all they did was sit and share meditation, before long they were both drenched in sweat from the mental exertion. But after a few hours’ work, the madness which had had Qui-Gon Jinn in a tight grip seemed to have ebbed.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan found himself watched from the other end of the sofa. “I haven’t felt this calm in years,” Qui-Gon said slowly, wonderingly. “If nothing else, I owe you my life for this.”

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan looked down. “I’m only doing what my Master would have done,” he smiled, sadly. “I remember how angry I used to get when he would bring home another pathetic lifeform, and after you were gone, how I wished I could have apologized and encouraged you.”

“Pathetic lifeform,” Qui-Gon mused, his mouth smiling but his eyes not. “Yes, that’s a good description of me at the moment. Of what I’ve become over the last … heavens. Is it really years? That long since, since he destroyed it all?”

Gently, carefully, Obi-Wan asked, “Can you talk about it now? Who is he, the one you have been talking about? Can you explain to me what happened here?” 

Frowning, Qui-Gon looked back at him. “You really aren’t from around here then, are you.”

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. “No, I’m not. But I’ve seen two realities where the Temple was in ruins and the Jedi gone, and both times were from the Sith. But you said the Sith were dead.”

“The Sith didn’t need to do this,” Qui-Gon said, standing slowly and stretching out kinked muscles. “We did it to ourselves. Come, let me repay your kindness with some food. I don’t have much …”

“I have some in my satchel,” Obi-Wan said, realizing that hunger was winning out over tiredness at the moment. “Let’s pool what we have and you can tell me the tale.”

The smile Qui-Gon gave him well nigh stopped Obi-Wan’s heart, it was so much like his Master’s. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and stood, putting his satchel on the table as Qui-Gon rummaged through the cupboards in search of food. Shortly a scratch meal was laid out and the two men set to hungrily. After the first pangs were assuaged, Qui-Gon began to speak, his eyes focused on the table, his fingers shredding a piece of bread to crumbs before him.

“My first Padawan was Azerina Insad,” he started, and Obi-Wan gently interrupted him.

“I remember,” he said softly. “I only met her once, but you talked about her a lot.”

“She’s still alive in your world, then,” Qui-Gon said, not looking up. “She died in the first wave here. He … he singled her out specially, since she and I had been so close.”

Continuing, Qui-Gon’s voice was a monotone. “Rina made me proud. I took over and finished her training when her first Master died, and she was such a wonderful Knight, so strong and steadfast in the Force. After a couple of years, I thought it best to find another one such, and in my excessive pride I took one that others had thought too dangerous, too strong-willed … but in my infinite wisdom I was certain I could mold the lad into one of our best.”

“Xan –” Obi-Wan began, but Qui-Gon cut him off, one hand reaching across the table to take his wrist in a bruising grip.

“Don’t. Please,” he said, eyes bright. “I can’t bear to hear that name again. He … he’s done so much to me …”

_Force!_ Obi-Wan thought, appalled. _Xanatos did all this? How?_

After a moment, Qui-Gon continued. “He was everything any Master could want in a Padawan. Beautiful, gracious, intelligent, quick-witted … I know now, my infatuation with him blinded me to what he really was, to the monster that lurked inside him. He surpassed all physical and mental challenges, was the epitome of everything Jedi. We – we were inseparable. 

“By the time he turned eighteen, he had pretty much gone through the entire Temple, breaking hearts the way some break eggs. But at eighteen, he decided on bigger prey … me. I was powerless against him … truly, Obi-Wan, I was!” There was a pleading note in Qui-Gon’s voice that made Obi-Wan wince. “I really tried to refuse him; what he wanted was wrong, it went against every rule in the Temple, every moral I held dear. But he would not be refused. I failed as a Master, and he came into my bed.”

Tears were once again slipping down Qui-Gon’s cheeks, unnoticed, as his trembling fingers continued to grind crumbs into tinier pieces. “Before long, I was completely under his sway. I’ve never been one to hold much with the Code or the Council anyway – I’m known for being a renegade – but with him backing me up, I began to break rules left and right. When it came out that we were lovers, I defied the Council. The Senate was in an uproar at the splitting of the Jedi along party lines, for I refused to leave the Order and there were those, mostly younger Knights, who followed me. Us. I thought I was in the right. The Council were hidebound, anal-retentive traditionalists, and it was good for them to be challenged. I thought … I thought he loved me, would stand by me.

“When the murders began, all on the opposition side, I still wouldn’t believe. Mace came to me, to plead with me … you see, he had figured it all out. He knew who it was behind all this, who had seduced me, who had already turned to the dark. He tried to make me see but I wouldn’t. My pride, my love for _him_ wouldn’t let me. We argued. When he insulted _him_ I lost control. I – I killed Mace.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t prevent the gasp that escaped. His Master and Mace Windu had disagreed many times, but he knew they were friends. Qui-Gon glanced up at the little sound, but saw only sympathy and shock on the face of the young man opposite him. He closed his eyes in pain, briefly, then looked back down.

“I wanted to turn myself in for punishment. But he came in, and he saw the body and just laughed. Laughed. I was angry, I yelled at him but he just came and kissed me, hot, so hot, then, then … then he knelt before me and took me into his mouth and …” 

Qui-Gon stopped for a moment, his breath hitching in his chest. After a moment, he continued. “I never knew what happened to the body. I should have known then what he was, what I had become, but I still lived in denial. It wasn’t until Yoda …” Qui-Gon looked up at Obi-Wan then. “Mace was a friend, but Yoda was my Master. He went too far. As Yoda lay dying in my arms, he managed to convince me of the wrongness in him. So I went looking for him, intent on killing him and myself. He was gone.

“I didn’t know, but he’d been in touch with his father, who was a wealthy man. He'd bought himself an army of mercenaries, a few Senators, and had gone to ground with one of them, that pompous ass Palpatine, who called himself a Sith. What an idiot. He and Palpatine killed Valorum first, so everyone figured, so they could take control of the Senate through his puppets. He didn’t want the power, he already had that. He wanted the chaos. And that’s what he got. When Palpatine disappeared – well, everyone figured he'd killed him too, to take all the power. Who knows.”

Swallowing, Qui-Gon reached for a glass of juice and took a big swig. “That was – let’s see. A dozen years ago, at least. As far as I know, the Jedi are extinct. At least I hope they are. I’m all that’s left.”

Stunned, Obi-Wan sat back in his chair. Of all possible realities, of all things to have happened, this one was probably the worst. He could understand the Sith coming back and destroying everything, he could understand him dying with Qui-Gon, him dying instead of Qui-Gon … but that one man, one single man turning to the dark, could wreak such complete and utter devastation … “I don’t … I can’t …” he shook his head. “Qui-Gon, you told me about Xa– about him. You killed him … in my world. He had turned and he forced you to kill him. But how could he have … single-handedly…”

Qui-Gon had his head in his hands, and even from across the table Obi-Wan could feel the headache pounding there. He stood and moved to Qui-Gon and put his hands on the shaggy head, sending healing Force energy into him. After a moment, deep blue, troubled eyes met his. “He had help," Qui-Gon said, his voice harsh. "And you tell me you’re from another reality? How can you tell me something so patently unbelievable and not understand this?” Qui-Gon’s voice was still harsh, but mild too, not accusatory, just stating facts. “So many strange things have happened to me in the last dozen years. I never imagined my life would end like this. But it has. Nothing can surprise me any more, nothing.”

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan surprised himself by yawning. He realized he was bone- tired and in desperate need of sleep about the same time Qui-Gon did. “You’re welcome to use my bed,” the older man said with a slight smile. “It’s still fairly stable. There’s no running water in the ‘fresher, but I can take you to the showers in the upper gym later. I’ve got some gravity flow rigged up. It’s not much …”

“I’ve had worse, Master,” Obi-Wan said, then winced as he realized his unconscious use of the honorific. “I’m sorry …”

“It’s all right. But from how you’ve helped me, perhaps I should be the one calling you that,” Qui-Gon said sadly. “Go on with you. Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

With a weary smile, Obi-Wan rose and said, “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”

The bedroom was austere and the bed a bit rickety … but the bedclothes were soft from long use and clean. Obi-Wan shucked out of everything but the black pants, and after a moment, removed those too, pulling on a pair of white leggings. Rather than get the clean sheets dirty with his dusty body, he lay down on top, using his cloak for a blanket. It wasn’t long before he was asleep, so he never knew when Qui-Gon came into the room to stand at the foot of the bed and look at him.

\---

Not wanting to get his days and nights mixed up, Obi-Wan only allowed himself a four-hour nap, which was enough to refresh him but not make him groggy. When he returned to the main room, he found Qui-Gon on the balcony, his ‘saber lit, doing a slow kata – the tenth. Quietly, Obi-Wan moved out to the balcony and joined him, without his ‘saber since he dared not light it. Qui-Gon’s moves were a bit stilted, as though he had not performed the kata in a long time, but Obi-Wan was still able to match him well.

Finishing, Obi-Wan moved smoothly into the twelfth kata, the kata of serenity. After a false start, Qui-Gon matched his movements. They finished together, then turned towards each other and bowed. Qui-Gon had an interesting expression on his face as he looked at Obi-Wan. “I have not felt enough at peace to do that for … longer than I care to admit,” he said. “Why didn’t you use your ‘saber?”

Raising one eyebrow, Obi-Wan said, “I think I mentioned earlier. It’s … ah, well, it’s kind of booby-trapped. Trust me. You _don’t_ want to turn it on. I’ve been using yours, I’m afraid, when I needed to.”

Qui-Gon looked at his ‘saber for a long time. “I think perhaps then that this is yours more than mine. How did you come by it?”

Swallowing, Obi-Wan said, “It’s a long story. But I would prefer you keep it, please. It never has felt right in my hands.”

They stood in a pregnant silence, staring at each other. Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan finally spoke again. “I think you mentioned the possibility of bathing. I would cheerfully sell my soul to the Sith at the moment for such a luxury, if it can be accomplished.” As soon as the words left his mouth Obi-Wan winced internally, but Qui-Gon seemed not to notice his insensitivity.

“Of course.” Qui-Gon remained still for a moment after speaking, then motioned the younger man inside. Gathering his satchel, Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon out of the apartment and upstairs, three flights to the Promenade. Smaller gyms ringed the long, covered balcony which wrapped around the central pillar, and in one of these, Qui-Gon had devised a gravity flow shower which was fed by rainwater cisterns. The water was tepid but fairly clear, and Obi-Wan delighted Qui-Gon by producing two bars of soap from his satchel.

“You … I mean, my Master always told me,” Obi-Wan said, handing one bar to the older man, “in certain situations, soap is more than worth its weight in platinum. I’ve always tried to bring along a couple of bars when I knew I’d be away for a long time.”

Looking curiously at the bar in his hand, Qui-Gon said in a dreamy voice, “I used to tell that to Rina. She always laughed at me, but always carried soap with her. I couldn’t get that girl out of the tub some days. I told her she should have been born a frog.” Sill wrapped in memories, Qui-Gon began removing his old and tattered tunics, quickly stripping down to his undergarments. Obi-Wan, still bare-chested from his nap, unselfconsciously removed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the stall, pulling the rope to quickly douse himself.

Qui-Gon watched him, a curious hunger in his eyes. As Obi-Wan stepped away from the stall to soap himself up, Qui-Gon took his place, copying his movements. Trying for a normal voice, he said, “Care to tell me about how you ended up with my ‘saber now?”

Not looking at the bigger man, Obi-Wan began to talk, his voice virtually the same curious monotone Qui-Gon had used earlier. “It’s a … well, all right. I went with … my Master to Naboo. We were sent on a Trade Federation dispute.”

“A what?” Qui-Gon asked, glancing at then quickly looking away from the younger man. 

“The Trade Federation … I guess they never assumed power here. They were a miserable collection of petty bureaucrats who delighted in making everyone’s life miserable,” Obi-Wan explained. “They had set up a blockade around Naboo, disputing the taxation of trade routes out to the Rim. Chancellor Valorum asked Qu … asked my master and me to go and mediate a settlement.” Soaping his hair, Obi-Wan paused. “You know, the funniest thing I remember from that trip is that you told me the negotiations would be short. Instead, the Trade Federation invaded Naboo and put their Queen in danger.”

Obi-Wan stepped back under the hose and pulled the string gently, using the Force to direct the gush of water as uniformly as he could. Then he stepped out and let Qui-Gon take his place. “We found out later it was the Sith. Somehow. I know now … it was Palpatine, he was the Sith Lord, which is why we were sent in the first place. We fought this … this thing on Naboo, a demon it looked like, ugly as sin, but one hell of a fighter.”

Lost in the memories, Obi-Wan stood still and looked at the floor and the water swirling down the drain. His voice was very soft. “We fought it, and it was too good. You got ahead of me, you didn’t _wait_ for me, and it killed you. I managed to kill it, barely, with your ‘saber because mine got shoved down a melting pit. For my troubles, I got the privilege of arranging your immolation and taking on my first padawan before your body was cold. That damn kid! Your precious ‘chosen one.’”

With an effort, Obi-Wan got control of himself again and remembered where he was. He looked up to see a soaking wet, naked Qui-Gon, face a mask of sympathy, staring at him. “I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan mumbled, grabbing the clean cloth Qui-Gon had set out as a towel. “I – I … it wasn’t you. But that’s what happened. My Master came upon this incredibly Force sensitive kid on Tatooine and, well, before I knew it, I was being shoved aside. Make way for the chosen one. Poor kid … it wasn’t his fault he was so much better than me.”

Quietly, gently, Qui-Gon stepped out of the stall to stand before Obi-Wan. Hesitantly, he took the younger man’s face in his hands and forced him to look up. “I know it wasn’t me. And I’m still not sure I understand or believe all that you’re telling me. But I’m sorry. If it means anything, anything at all, I’m sorry.”

Trying and failing to smile, Obi-Wan said, “Thank you. You see, I was going to ask yo… my master to bond with me. On my knighting day. I – I loved him. To be so easily pushed aside, well, it hurt.”

“Your Master was a fool, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “Addled as I am, dark as I’ve become, I can see the power, the goodness in you. I would have been proud to be your bondmate.”

“You’re not dark,” Obi-Wan said softly, finally finding his smile. “You are surrounded by it, but it hasn’t gotten to you all the way.”

Qui-Gon swallowed, still tenderly holding the young Knight’s face in his big, damp hands. “You don’t know … the darkness is there. I’ve nearly gone mad fighting it. I _have_ gone mad fighting it. I don’t know if I have the strength …”

“I’m here now, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said quickly, bringing his hands up to cover those on his face. “I can help you. I will help you. We’ll drive the dark off, together.”

Qui-Gon’s voice was soft, raw and thick. "Could it be? Could it possibly be after so, so very long?" He brushed his thumb over Obi-Wan's lower lip, and continued. “You don’t owe me, Obi-Wan. Mine is not your fight; I am not your Master. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but the danger …”

“I am a Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “And as my very wise Master once told me, danger shared is danger halved. I _choose_ this fight, if you’ll let me.”

“Then I accept your help.” Quickly turning away, Qui-Gon picked up the other drying cloth. “Let’s get dressed. I’ve got a truck garden one level down – there should be some ripe vegetables for dinner.”

Not certain how to accept the sudden change of subject, Obi-Wan merely stayed quiet and dressed, then followed Qui-Gon out of the gym.

The truck garden was small, in a sheltered spot, and there were several ripe vegetables. Though still early in the season, there were some fruit trees bearing as well, ones that Obi-Wan remembered well, and he still had some cheese and bread left from his second trip. On their way back to the apartment, Qui-Gon told him there were still some pockets of civilization left on Coruscant, the nearest several klicks away, but he sometimes took fruits and vegetables there to barter for flour, butter, honey and other things he could not make himself. “But no soap,” he smiled wryly. “It’s too expensive. I’ve missed being really, really clean.”

They ate lightly, drinking water, and talking. Obi-Wan found himself describing his life in a much more vibrant Temple, and Qui-Gon smiled in memory. Then Obi-Wan talked about his incredible journeys, describing in detail the odd sensation of seeing his face on someone else. Qui-Gon laughed, amused and appalled, still incredulous at the tale.

At one point in the conversation, Qui-Gon reached behind himself to pull on his long mane, which had become tangled in the chair slats. “Damn hair,” he muttered. “Need to cut it again.”

Grinning, Obi-Wan said, “Here. Let me help. Do you have a comb?”

Frowning back, Qui-Gon answered, “That’s all right. You don’t have to …”

“But I want to. I know where I saw it.” Dashing into the ‘fresher, he returned with a large wooden comb, then moved behind Qui-Gon and began teasing out the tangles. “I’ve always loved your hair,” he murmured, throwing himself into the job. “But I’ve never even imagined it this long.”

“It’s more of a nuisance,” Qui-Gon said, clearly uncomfortable at the attention. Obi-Wan was oblivious as he stroked and combed the luxurious strands, and finally Qui-Gon relaxed somewhat, leaning back into the touch.

By the time Obi-Wan was done, and had the hair neatly plaited and tied off, Qui-Gon’s eyes were closed and he was smiling gently, a serene expression that Obi-Wan had nearly despaired of seeing. “That looks better,” he murmured, not referring to the neatened hair but to the face of the man before him.

“It feels better,” Qui-Gon answered, misinterpreting the comment. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

“You’re welcome, Qui-Gon.” After an awkward pause, Obi-Wan said, “I’m afraid I’m not long for this world. Four hours of sleep was just not enough to get me caught up. If you’ve got an extra pillow, I’ll just sack out on your sofa …”

“Nonsense.” Qui-Gon said, still smiling. “My bed is plenty big enough. I mean …” He suddenly looked shocked at his own words. “I didn’t mean to imply …”

The sudden heat and tension in the room was palpable. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to respond, what to say, but his brain suddenly disengaged and his mouth took over. “It has long been my dream to share your bed, Qui-Gon,” he murmured, then abruptly turned away. “I’m sorry.”

Qui-Gon looked shocked and dismayed for a moment, then abruptly stood and grabbed the smaller man by the biceps. “What I had with Xa … with him …” he still seemed incapable of saying the name, but continued anyway, “was unnatural, immoral, evil. I know that now. My eyes are open, and they see you. Can we … can we … comfort … each other? Will you, Obi-Wan?”

The young Knight stared long into deep, indigo depths before answering, and when he did, his voice sounded strange to his ears. “My eyes are open too, Qui-Gon. They see a pure heart that has been besieged and hurt beyond belief.” Shaking loose of the arms that gripped him, Obi-Wan reached up and caressed the lines of care on a dear face. “Whatever I can be to you, I will be. Let this be our beginning.” 

Almost incapable of speech, Qui-Gon nodded. “A beginning. My beginning. My Obi-Wan …” He leaned down and met lips eager for the touch, eager to devour, to please and be tasted with joy. He moaned deep in his throat and then they were clutching at each other, providing solace and heat and at least lust, if not love.

They dragged each other to the bedroom, where they removed their clothing quickly and gracelessly, and where they fell together on the bed, eager for the touch of skin to skin. Qui-Gon seemed more than willing to allow the younger man to take the lead, and Obi-Wan’s hunger was such that he barely noticed. Nearly helpless with need, he covered Qui-Gon’s body with kisses and licks, tasting him frantically, as though afraid he would disappear at any moment, hissing when their erections met as they ground together.

Finally, Qui-Gon lifted his hands to cradle Obi-Wan’s head, whispering, “It’s all right, slowly, slowly,” as he gently reversed their positions, tasting in turn. Obi-Wan arched his back and gasped as a tongue slowly swept down his chest, across aching nipples. His cock was rigid and leaking by the time Qui-Gon finally reached it, and he couldn’t prevent the shout of need and pleasure that broke free from deep within him as Qui-Gon gently swallowed his manhood. 

He wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t last long. Obi-Wan scrabbled at Qui-Gon’s shoulders, dragging the older man up his torso and sealing their lips together as he maneuvered himself back on top. Qui-Gon let his legs fall open and Obi-Wan settled between them, their genitals bumping and causing both of them to moan. With a sudden, smooth movement, Qui-Gon lifted his legs, spreading them wide, a blatant invitation that nearly pushed Obi-Wan over the edge. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” he panted, fingers already drifting low between them to caress at an opening. 

“Yessss,” hissed Qui-Gon, back arched and eyes tightly closed. “I need this. Please. I don’t care if you hurt me. Please.” 

_I care,_ Obi-Wan thought, sending a tendril of the Force to gently loosen tight muscles and prepare his partner. Another thought and his penis was encased in a slick Force sheath, and he was rising to his knees, pulling Qui-Gon up to him, slowly pushing into the warm, tight body and it was glorious.

“Master …” He sobbed, nearly beyond coherent thought as he fell. He had just enough lucidity left to realize his tenuous hold over the Force was gone, and to keep himself from simply driving deep and hurting, before he was coming, body spasming and convulsing as his seed was projected deep.

“Oh please oh please ohpleaseohplease …” Qui-Gon was gasping, feeling the splash of heat inside him but not quite there. Barely able to function, Obi-Wan managed to grasp the long thick penis in one hand and pump, thumb spreading the leaking fluid around the tip and probing the slit. That was all that was necessary; Qui-Gon arched and came, wailing in triumph and despair.

\---

They made love twice more that night, and each time Obi-Wan was the taker. Qui-Gon refused to do the taking, would not allow the younger man to take him into his body. But he would use his mouth for pleasure, and rimmed Obi-Wan for most of a half hour until the Knight was a quivering, inarticulate bundle of randomly firing nerve endings. 

As they lay, tangled together in the crepuscular light from the window, Obi-Wan’s sated mind began to wonder about Qui-Gon’s behavior, and he came to a few, not very nice, conclusions. He didn’t realize he was broadcasting his feelings until he heard the sigh resonate through the chest on which he lay.

“He – he liked being hurt, liked it rough,” Qui-Gon murmured softly. “And it didn’t take me long to realize that I liked hurting him. That’s when I began hating myself, I think.” He fell silent for a few moments, while Obi-Wan concentrated on projecting love, acceptance, and sympathy. “I’ve made a vow to never hurt another being again. I won’t, Obi-Wan, not even accidentally. Well, perhaps excepting him.” Qui-Gon gave a half-laugh that was all pain as he finished.

Obi-Wan lifted his head and looked at the familiar features. “No, you won’t. You are Qui-Gon Jinn. You may not be the man I grew up with, but you are, nonetheless, him. And he is a good man, an honest and true man. Your heart has been wounded, but it can heal, Qui-Gon. It can.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes closed in pain, and Obi-Wan could feel shields slam up around ripped and bleeding emotions. He knew there was more here than what Qui-Gon was telling him, more pain and agony the Master had gone through and was reluctant to admit. But Obi-Wan firmly believed he could help, he could win through and heal the shattered heart before him. He levered himself up until he was draped across the big body once again.

“Tell me how I can help. Can we get off Coruscant, away from him?” Obi-Wan asked, dipping his head to lick and nibble at the strong throat.

The dual sensations of having a warm body draped over him and a talented tongue working on his neck conspired to partially remove Qui-Gon’s inhibitions on talking about his former Padawan. “He controls all the … ah. Oh, that’s so nice … he controls all the outbound transports, and there are precious few of them. He … he has, unnnn …” Obi-Wan’s lips latched on to a nipple and he worried it gently before laving it with his tongue. “Everyone’s afraid of him, no one will cross him … he owns everyone left on the planet.”

“Why haven’t you fought him? Why, for that matter, hasn’t he killed you? Surely you are the better fighter,” Obi-Wan murmured, punctuating his speech with nips and licks.

“I was, perhaps,” Qui-Gon admitted, “but I’d not only lost my ‘saber, I’ve lost my center, Obi-Wan. I can’t fight any more.” 

_That’s not true now,_ Obi-Wan thought to himself. He could tell Qui-Gon was regaining his serenity and calm more and more with every passing hour. 

“As to why he hasn’t killed me …” Qui-Gon’s eyes closed again, this time in resignation. “He likes to torture me. He visits me, sometimes, to gloat. He knows I can do nothing … nothing against him …”

“Then let me be your champion,” Obi-Wan said. “Let me fight him for you, and for all those he has killed.”

“I can’t allow that,” Qui-Gon said, slowly, and Obi-Wan felt him trying – and failing – to be firm. "Truth is... I wanted... wanted you to make just such an offer. But I can't, I can't now. You've done so much to bring me back to my serenity …"

“Let it go, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said, projecting his words with Force. “You cannot carry the galaxy on your shoulders. Let me help you.” While they had been talking, Obi-Wan had been maneuvering his body just so, and now he sank back onto Qui-Gon’s renewed erection slowly. The big man’s eyes grew large, and he gasped.

“No! Obi-Wan …” His words degenerated into a moan of delight.

“Yes,” gasped Obi-Wan, the stretch and burn of the unlubricated invasion quickly giving way to pleasure as he concentrated on loosening his muscles. Qui-Gon’s cock was huge and filled him completely, delightfully. “Oh, gods,” he panted, his own cock becoming rigid once more with the sensation. 

He slowly began to rise and fall, Qui-Gon’s face a mask of pleasure, his mouth open to an “O” of agonizing ecstasy. “Oh, it’s good … it’s sooooo good …” he groaned, reaching up to caress the phallus weeping over his belly. The two lovers ground together for some time, giving and taking their pleasure until coming in a blaze of shared bliss, shouting their joy aloud. 

And far away, in an underground, heavily defended bunker, a dark-haired man, whose eyes glowed with madness, listened to the lovers’ endearments and laughed.

\---

When Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon finally managed to drag themselves out of bed, they ate, then, by mutual agreement, exercised. Qui-Gon proved to Obi-Wan – if not to himself – that he could still fight, that his body had not forgotten what his mind apparently had. He moved smoothly through battle katas, and when Obi-Wan suggested they find something to spar with, he readily agreed.

There were still wooden practice ‘sabers in many of the gyms, including the one where Qui-Gon’s impromptu shower was set up. They chose two and spent several happy, breathless and exhausting hours whanging away at each other with them, grinning fiercely. Finally, Qui-Gon called a halt. He was breathing heavily and sweating, but his face was transcendent. Roughly he embraced the younger man, and both laughed. 

“Whoever you are, wherever you’ve come from,” Qui-Gon said, kissing Obi-Wan tenderly, “you are a gift from the Force. One I had no right to receive.”

Returning the kiss, Obi-Wan grinned up into the face of his erstwhile Master. “On the contrary,” he said, “you have every right to receive it. And it’s _my_ gift as well.” After a moment, he gently broke free and took Qui-Gon’s hand. “Pah. You stink. Let’s go shower.”

Qui-Gon laughed and followed his new lover to the showers, but Obi-Wan could sense it was mostly for show. There was so much that Obi-Wan didn’t know… that Qui-Gon hadn't told him but which obviously ate at the man. It would come out, like lancing a boil, Obi-Wan knew.

They stripped together, shoving their sweaty tunics aside in a bundle to be washed later, then stepped into the stall. Qui-Gon found himself unbelievably hardening again at the sight of the wet young man before him, and he noticed that for some reason Obi-Wan seemed to have the same reaction. Grinning slyly, Obi-Wan reached a soapy fist out and clasped the Master’s firming shaft, soaping and massaging it until Qui-Gon groaned.

“Something you want, there, love?” Obi-Wan asked huskily, kissing him hungrily then turning, his hands on the wall of the stall.

Nearly maddened with desire, Qui-Gon pressed two wet fingers at the entrance to Obi-Wan’s body, causing the young man to arch and moan in delight. He was still loose and somewhat slick from their previous encounter, so Qui-Gon wasted no time. Gently nudging the Knight’s legs further apart and holding him tightly by the hips, he entered Obi-Wan in one sure stroke, then began pumping firmly in and out, the rhythm guaranteed to drive them both to the brink of insanity. 

“Qui-Gon!” Obi-Wan wailed, his come splashing against the wall in hot spurts. Qui-Gon leaned forward and buried his head in wet, tawny hair as he too came, sobbing his reaction. 

“I love you,” he gasped into Obi-Wan’s ear as his spent penis slipped from the younger man’s body. “You’ve given me back my light.”

Turning, Obi-Wan embraced the man, gripping him tightly. “It never left, Qui-Gon,” he panted, “it never left.”

\---

After calming down and finishing their shower, Qui-Gon introduced Obi-Wan to the rest of the Temple; showed him how to wash clothing in the rainwater, took him to other gardens, mostly gone to seed, and explored with him. With the help of the lightsaber, they got into a sealed storeroom Qui-Gon had never managed to breach before, and discovered still good clothing, bedding, boots, small electronics, even some non-perishable food that had been tightly sealed. Their afternoon tea was a feast, and Qui-Gon reveled in wearing tunics that hadn’t been patched dozens of times before. 

They talked as they ate, Obi-Wan espousing possibility after possibility while Qui-Gon watched him with clear amusement. Among his proposals was returning limited power to the Temple, building solar panels for heating water, even trying to find shuttles in working order to escape the planet and go elsewhere.

Finally, he petered out, giving Qui-Gon an exasperated look across the table. “What?”

Qui-Gon laughed lightly. “Nothing. It’s just … I’ve not been this happy in years. Even if I never leave this hellhole, as long as I have you …”

They grinned at each other like idiots for a moment, then Qui-Gon slapped his thigh. “Well, grand plans need grand valuta. Let’s go to the garden and see what might be worth harvesting and trading. Then tomorrow we can go to that enclave I told you about. With all the other stuff we’ve managed to find, we just might be able to afford soap.”

“It’s a start,” Obi-Wan said, pleased at the contentment evident in Qui-Gon. “Let’s go.”

There were several ripe vegetables available, and by the morning, there would be many more, Qui-Gon determined. He and Obi-Wan carefully harvested, then moved among the trees of the fruit garden to see if anything else was ripe yet. He was boosting Obi-Wan up to look at one limb, tickling him as he did so and making them both laugh, when a silky voice from behind them made both men freeze.

“My, my. How … domestic, Master. I see you have a new toy.”

Dropping lightly, Obi-Wan whirled and took Qui-Gon’s head in his hands. He could feel the big body trembling with suppressed reaction, and projected calm as strongly as he could while whispering, "Center, Qui-Gon. Center. You can do this. You _can_."

After a moment, the trembling eased and they both turned to face the interloper. Xanatos was tall, though not as tall as Qui-Gon, and dressed head to foot in black. _Of course,_ Obi-Wan noted wryly. The patrician face would have been handsome, beautiful even, if it had not been twisted into a sneer, and if the light of madness had not been so evident in the black eyes. “Hello, Xanatos,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “Qui-Gon has told me much about you.”

Xanatos looked the young Knight up and down, a leisurely, insulting appraisal. “So. You’re my Master’s new fuck toy. Pretty. I’ll bet you taste good too.” Qui-Gon started and growled deep in his throat, but Obi-Wan gentled him with a touch. This made Xanatos laugh. “Oh, my, you’ve got the beast tamed! How clever of you. But you made one mistake, pretty boy.”

Obi-Wan could not afford to lose his calm detachment, and in truth, felt no where near doing so. For some reason, coming face-to-face with this monster was not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. “And what would that be, Xanatos?” He asked. His calm demeanor and voice appeared to rile the other man, which satisfied him.

“He’s _mine_ ,” Xanatos hissed. “That's the mistake you made. _Nobody_ fucks my Master. Nobody but _me_.”

“He’s not your Master any longer, Xanatos,” Obi-Wan said in the same level tone of voice. “He stopped being your Master the moment you turned. It just took him a while to realize that.” From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon giving him an incredulous look, and he could feel the waves of sudden understanding emanating from him. “He belongs to no one but himself now,” Obi-Wan continued, directing his words as much to Qui-Gon as to Xanatos. “You have no hold over him any more.”

His jaw working, Xanatos spat out, “Oh, is that right? Well. Perhaps I can persuade you otherwise.” Turning to Qui-Gon he said, “Let me tell you about pretty boy here, Master,” he purred. Obi-Wan noted that he never stepped closer than thirty feet away from them, as though he were afraid to come closer … which he may have been. “I did some checking in the Temple database when I got back from off-world last night. He’s no Jedi. He’s just a farmer … washed out of the initiates, never got taken as a Padawan, went to the agri-corps on Bandomeer. I don’t know what kind of shit he’s been feeding you, but it’s all lies.”

Smiling sadly, Obi-Wan said, “So that’s what happened to me in this reality. It almost happened in mine,” he told Qui-Gon. “You had sworn never to take another Padawan since your last one had turned and you were forced to kill him.” He looked back to Xanatos, who was shifting from foot to foot, nearly snarling. “Pity you never finished the job here.”

“What a crock of shit,” Xanatos spat. “Alternate realities my ass. He’s feeding you a load, Master, so he could get into your pants. That’s all.”

Qui-Gon turned ponderously, obviously forcing himself to look away from his former padawan to Obi-Wan, standing beside him. Obi-Wan could feel his turmoil, his near panic; then he reached for the Force -- and found it, rich and bright and whole, waiting for him – in Obi-Wan. His center snapped back into focus with an almost audible click, the trembling ceased completely, and his serenity descended like a warm, comforting blanket. “He _is_ a Jedi,” he murmured, brushing Obi-Wan’s hair back from his face. “He’s more Jedi than I ever was, I think. More than you ever could have been, Xani. And he’s right,” he added, turning to his former Padawan. “You have no hold over me any more.”

The man in black was almost frothing at the mouth as he watched the byplay between the two men. Figuring that an attack against Obi-Wan would not succeed, he turned to the Knight, this time attacking his former Master. “Oh, you think he’s so noble, so good, do you? I can tell you things about him, ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’ … things that will change your mind. Ask him! Ask him who killed Mace Windu then had sex over the still-warm body! Ask him to tell you who planned the overthrow of the Council, who planned blowing up the Council’s transport as they left on retreat! Go on! Ask him _who killed Yoda_!”

Qui-Gon crumpled in on himself as the vitriol spewed from his former student, his eyes closing so he wouldn’t look at Obi-Wan, wouldn’t let him see the guilt, his darkness, all the lies and the hatred that Obi-Wan was feeling pour off Qui-Gon. 

“I know all about that, Xanatos,” Obi-Wan said quietly, still calm and level. “He has been hurt and the darkness has hunted him. But unlike you, the darkness never completely claimed him. He’s finding his way back to the light, Xanatos. And I will stay with him until he does.”

Swallowing, Qui-Gon managed to look at Obi-Wan, wonder and overwhelming love flowing off him in waves. “I was right,” he whispered, one hand coming up to brush lovingly against a soft cheek. “You _are_ a gift from the Force.”

Obi-Wan smiled brilliantly and gently kissed the fingers that caressed his cheek. From across the grove, they heard a howl of rage and the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting, then Xanatos was charging with super-human speed, aiming for Obi-Wan.

Automatically, Qui-Gon drew and ignited in one smooth stroke, the vibrant green blade meeting the dark yellow one in a clash of sparks. “I don’t think so, Xani,” he said calmly. “We’re long past due for this, don’t you think?”

Stepping away, Obi-Wan couldn’t help the soft protest which left his lips. Shooting him a quick, sad smile, Qui-Gon said, “I know, Obi-Wan. But this is my fight. I created him, now I must deal with the consequences.”

It was like Naboo all over again, Obi-Wan thought to himself. He dared not light the ‘saber clipped to his belt, and he had no other way of protecting or defending Qui-Gon. All he could do was watch as the battle played out across the peaceful Temple grove.

Xanatos had the advantages of speed and youth, but Qui-Gon was a formidable fighter, especially now that his center was returned to him, and he had trained the warrior he faced. The battle wove back and forth, and Obi-Wan could very nearly see the cloud of anger and hate that followed Xanatos, that gave impetus to his attacks. But Qui-Gon never faltered, never let the dark come near him.

Age finally took its toll. Qui-Gon came down wrong and slipped on a patch of grass, and wasn’t able to recover before Xanatos came in for the kill, running him through his left shoulder, in nearly the same spot as the Sith had. As Obi-Wan screamed, moving towards the combatants, he saw an incredible mix of emotions wash over Xanatos’ face … horror, anguish, fear, satisfaction, regret; they were all there. Qui-Gon was on one knee before his former student, who stood frozen over him, his ‘saber still impaling him. As Obi-Wan ran towards them, he saw the green ‘saber lift, as though in slow motion, and run Xanatos through the heart.

Both ‘sabers withdrew as their owners fell back. Xanatos wailed, “Master …” as his nerveless fingers opened and he tumbled over, dead. Obi-Wan managed to catch Qui-Gon before he fell, holding him gently, straightening his limbs.

“Is he …?” Qui-Gon panted.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, brushing hair back. “He’s gone.”

“Good. Now it’s my turn,” was the gasped reply. “I’ve redeemed myself.”

“ _No_! Please,” Obi-Wan begged, sobbing. “Don’t do this to me again, Master!”

Smiling sadly, Qui-Gon reached his hand up to caress the soft cheek. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. But my Master … waits for me … like yours waits … for you.” He pressed his ‘saber into the young Knight’s hand. “Take this. You’ll need … it …” he gasped, fading fast. “I love you. You’ve saved me. The Force … will be with you … always …” Qui-Gon turned his head a little, smiled, and whispered, “Master …” 

And then he did die, fading into the Force, leaving Obi-Wan holding nothing but a handful of old tunics.

\---

At least there was nothing to burn this time, Obi-Wan reflected numbly. He was not about to give a proper Jedi immolation to Xanatos, even if such sentiment was petty. He left the body where it was, to rot.

He moved the tunics back into the apartment, and collected his things, taking some of the small electronics, an extra pair of short boots and some food they had gathered from the store room, as well as Qui-Gon’s spare ‘saber crystals. He had already removed the topazes from Xanatos’ ‘saber, rendering it inoperable. Then he tidied up, placed the tunics on the bed, and sealed the apartment after him.

With his Master’s ‘saber, he carved into the door an epitaph.

_Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn_  
The Last Jedi  
Warrior for the Good  
Guardian of the Peace  
Redeemed at the Last  
Rest in the Force 

By the time he was done, the sky was darkening towards night. He walked out to the main garden and sat down in a shaded corner. “Good-bye, again, love,” he whispered into the breeze that caressed his cheek; then he pulled out his ‘saber and turned it on.


End file.
